


somewhere near the edge of the universe; turn back now.

by jetame



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:09:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6634891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetame/pseuds/jetame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nebula, star, supergiant, supernova, black hole.<br/>(maya teetering on the edge)</p>
            </blockquote>





	somewhere near the edge of the universe; turn back now.

When you turn 17, they pile into your car, clad in thin cotton and tight lipped smiles and you drive. Riley stares ahead, her eyes set on the road sign for whatever concert venue Maya's been dreaming of going to since "like, forever." You don't know the band, but it doesn't matter. Maya's tipsy on vodka that she got from some college guy doing something that makes Lucas' jaw clench and Riley's eyes squeeze shut.

(That's the thing that separates her from the rest of them, frat house doors and a certain awareness about the concept of reputations.)

And then she's on your shoulders and you're shuddering under her weight and Lucas just lifts her, drapes her over his forearms and sways to a song who's lyrics he'll never care to remember. It's a surreal little scene.

(It makes Riley's eyes squeeze shut. But you're starting to think everything does.)

* * *

 

Maya doesn't have a problem.

Maya has fun.

That's what she tells you when she hands you a tequila shot, and the taste burns the back of your throat so bad that you cough half of it up, with whatever effects it may have had on you. 

That's also what she tells Lucas when he wraps his arm around her waist to steady her swaying hips.

That and a few other choice words that you're very glad Riley wasn't there to hear. 

(House parties were never her thing.)

* * *

 

You know a lot about a lot, she says. The circumstances couldn't be more typical, her head dangling off the window seat, Lucas' on her lap.

I like to think I do, you say. 

Yeah, maybe you should stop thinking so much, the words slip past her lips and she squeezes her eyes shut just like Riley used to.

(You'd like to think she still does, but you can't catch her gaze anymore.)

* * *

 

You suspect something when his car smells like that fake salon shampoo Maya uses and his bedroom is something like the perfume store Riley had dragged you into so she could pick out her best friend's birthday gift.

You want to ask, but whenever you're alone, it catches in your throat when you remember the sweet brunette with dreams far too big for anyone but him.

The look on Maya's face says that this thought has come to her mind too.

* * *

 

You know a lot about a lot.

You know a lot about stars lives, their birth and life, their explosions into dust, their endless burning.

If Maya was a star, she'd be a supergiant, teetering on the edge of a supernova. 

She's got bones on her living room floor, boys who burned up in her atmosphere. 

You wish it was just thrill seeking, the way you watch his lips press into her neck.

But any dying star knows the clock is ticking, and the way her eyes shine with something like joy tells you otherwise.

 


End file.
